


i've seen tomorrow (i've seen yesterday)

by itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualday)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Arguing, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-binary character, Original Character(s), Set in the future, clothes designer louise, director bryony, phil is obsessed with dan's dimple, so am I, tech pj, time agent dan, time agent phil, yes i love repeating every single character in the additional tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 08:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmyusualday/pseuds/itsmyusualphannie
Summary: “The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” – L. P. Hartley.future time travel au in which dan and Phil's jobs are to fix fractures in the timeline. this particular mission will take them back to 2019, but how well will they work together when they've just had a fight?nominated for Best Sci-Fi in the 2019 phanfic awards!





	i've seen tomorrow (i've seen yesterday)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the phandom reverse big bang. the lovely [Elle](https://maybeformepersonally.tumblr.com/) (maybeformepersonally.tumblr.com) let me do pretty much whatever i wanted with her ‘time travel’ prompt, which i really appreciate! this was so much fun to write. find Elle's art based off the fic [here](https://maybeformepersonally.tumblr.com/post/186210473468/this-is-the-first-installment-of-art-i-made-for)! it's lovely and elegant and fits the mood of the fic so well! i also tried to integrate it into the fic itself but please check it out and [reblog it on tumblr!](https://maybeformepersonally.tumblr.com/post/186210473468/this-is-the-first-installment-of-art-i-made-for)
> 
> beta’ed by the invaluable [Milo](https://phanbf.tumblr.com/) (phanbf.tumblr.com). i couldn't have done it without him and Elle! their lovely comments and encouragement were just <333 all remaining mistakes are mine
> 
> title from the song ‘time travelling blues’ by orange goblin

#  _i've seen tomorrow (i've seen yesterday)_

[ ](https://imgur.com/EdUQAfS)

It was the year 2079 and yet the sound of slammed doors would still resound throughout an entire flat. The reverberations of this particular one were angry and seemed to take an eternity to dissipate.

A figure sat slumped on the sofa. “Dan?” he called reluctantly toward the bathroom. The bathroom door was still vibrating from the force of its impact.

“Fuck off, Phil!” came a voice from the bathroom. “I’m getting ready like you wanted!” A drawer banged shut and something crashed to the floor.

Phil sighed again. He climbed to his feet and reached for the glasses on the coffee table. They buzzed when he picked them up. He slid them onto his face and a notification popped up onto the right lens, a pale blue message that informed him that his ride was here. He blinked and it cleared away. “That is not what I said,” Phil told the closed door, but he doubted Dan cared. “I said that maybe we should finish this conversation later, like after work.”

No reply.

“The cab is here.”

That garnered a response. “Why don’t you just go?” Dan sounded even more irritated than he had a minute ago, if that was possible. “I’ll get my own.”

“It’s scheduled to pick up both of us.” Phil absent-mindedly shoved aside a cushion on the sofa, glancing under it for his phone.

“Fine! Just give me a fucking minute.”

Phil gave him _five_ fucking minutes. He found his phone under a Totoro plushie and replied to a few messages while he waited. His glasses and phone buzzed simultaneously, both bringing up his work reminder notification. He swept them both away. The world wouldn’t end if they were late… probably.

Dan emerged from the bathroom with another slam of the door and Phil winced in sympathy for the doorframe. Dan didn’t usually bang things around, but their previous conversation had clearly upset him. Phil glanced up at him as he grabbed his own phone from its charging dock on the kitchen counter and then stormed past Phil.

“Let’s go,” Dan said, as if he had been the one waiting. Phil rolled his eyes and followed him out the front door, which locked automatically behind them. The little alarm light above the door blinked on, glowing solidly to confirm that their security system was active.

Phil checked his phone one last time and then went down the flight of stairs right behind Dan. They emerged onto the grey pavement and bright morning sunlight. Phil paused and squinted against the light for a brief moment before his glasses adjusted, dimming so he could see more clearly. When his vision cleared, a little darker than the actual level of light, Phil could see Dan climbing into the small two-seater cab. He hurried after him, dropping into the other seat and buckling himself into it.

“This vehicle is now in motion,” a pleasant male voice announced and then the car was moving, barely a whisper of sound or movement beneath them. Buildings flashed past the opaque windows, a few trees here and there, but Phil didn’t see them. He was sneaking glances at Dan out of the corner of his eye. It was frustrating that Phil couldn’t actually judge by Dan’s neutral expression how upset he was, but even more frustrating that Dan had refused to listen to Phil earlier. He’d only shut down Phil’s argument, insistent upon his own point of view.

Phil had been serious when he’d said they needed to talk _later_ , though. Their job couldn’t afford any mistakes that may come by tension or inattentiveness. They would have to set aside their disagreement until they left work that afternoon.

“Dan?”

Dan’s gaze flicked from the phone in his hands to Phil. His usually soft, dark eyes were now cool and precise. “What?”

“We have to get along while we’re at work. This can’t affect what we’re doing.” Phil hadn’t been able to read Dan’s expression a moment before, but now he could. Dan was annoyed again.

“You think I’m going to let this affect my work?” Dan’s eyebrows were sharp and narrowed over his eyes. “Well, fuck off. You know I’ve never let personal shit mess up my job. What about you? How do I know you won’t fuck up because you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you!” Phil insisted, now also annoyed. “You’re mad at _me_.”

Dan scoffed. “I’m not mad at _you_ , I’m mad at what you keep doing.”

“I’m trying! You don’t get it.”

“How hard can it be?” Dan’s voice rose shrilly. “It’s not that difficult to do. Just pick up the fucking-”

The car beeped, the noise cutting him off. “We have arrived at **Work** ,” the pleasant voice informed them.

Dan heaved a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before looking at Phil again. “Fine. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Truce?” Phil offered. It earned him a generous eyeroll.

“Truce, whatever.”

The car beeped mildly again. Phil leaned forward and tapped his phone against the round disk in the centre of the console. It chimed instantly and the voice said brightly, “Your payment has been accepted. Thank you for driving with AutoNav Cab Company. Please be careful when exiting your vehicle.”

Dan was already climbing out the other side of the car, but Phil waited for the door to slide out of the way before hopping out. He swept his hands over his shirt, brushing away any wrinkles that might have appeared during the drive, and waited for Dan to join him on the pavement. Dan did so a moment later, stepping up beside him and deliberately leaving a ridiculously small amount of space between their shoulders. Phil was beyond tempted to lean into it, as he usually did, but instead he turned and headed for the small building that the car had stopped beside.

Phil’s glasses had adjusted once more to the sunlight, though it wasn’t as bright here. Tall trees cast the building into shadow, the greenery a stark contrast to the concrete and glass buildings all around them.

They reached the front doors in only a few dozen long strides, Dan keeping pace with Phil. The red alarm lights above the wide glass doors blinked at them as they approached, but as soon as Phil reached out to push against the door, both of their phones sent the information on their electronic identity cards to the building’s alarm system and the doors unlocked instantly. In a smooth motion, Phil swept open the door to the left and gestured for Dan to go ahead of him. He did, but Phil could sense his internal eyeroll even if he kept his face carefully innocuous.

The air inside the lobby was dry and cool, a relieving change from the warm, muggy air outside. The door locked again as Phil let it shut behind him. Empty but for a few tall plants in the corners and a simple receptionist desk, the room was stark and simple. There was a single door behind the receptionist desk, plain and uninviting.

The receptionist himself glanced up at them as they crossed the room toward him, his bright eyes keen. “Hey guys!” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Tyler!” said Phil, matching his enthusiasm.

“It’s going fine,” said Dan.

“Just fine? Not great? That’s sad. What can I do to help?”

Dan seemed to consider that, stopping just before he ran into the tall desk. “You could give me one of those little bags of Haribo that I know you keep stashed behind the counter.”

Tyler’s mouth dropped open in false shock. “Why, Dan!” But he shuffled aside papers and various items to find a bag of the gummies and tossed it at Dan.

“Thanks,” said Dan, huffing a laugh. He tore open the packet and tossed a few into his mouth. Phil gazed mournfully at the sweets.

“Okay!” said Tyler. “Security questions, you know the drill. Dan, what instrument or instruments do you play?”

The questions were different every day. They were usually a random fact about the individual’s life but could range from a fact that only they would know or what was their favourite type of flower. Phil personally thought that Tyler had far too much fun getting the answers to the questions. He also, sometimes, considered how easy it would be for Tyler to take down this whole company with all of the information he pretended not to know.

“Piano,” said Dan through a mouthful of Haribo. He didn’t elaborate.

“And Phil! How many pairs of glasses have you owned in the past five years?”

Phil had to actually think about that one. “Eight?”

“Nine,” Dan corrected. “That brown pair that you sat on and crushed the first day you got it counts too.”

“Nine,” amended Phil.

“Correct!”

Phil was also slightly concerned about the fact that Tyler actually knew the right answers to these questions.

“You’re good to go!” said Tyler. He had found another snack-size bag of Haribo and was busy tearing them open. He waved Dan and Phil past his desk with a fistful of the gummies and then promptly shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s so attractive,” Dan scoffed at Tyler. Phil opened the door behind the desk and waited for Dan to catch up.

“I try,” said Tyler with a bright grin.

Dan caught up to Phil and they both left the lobby through the door. The hallway inside was dark, barely lit by the light through the closing door, but once the door had completely swung shut, lights along the top of the hallways’ sides lit up and illuminated their way. The walls were a neutral cream colour, the floor a carpeted beige. Phil thought it looked gross. It was the actual worst thing to see twice a day, five days a week, and certainly wasn’t designed to boost morale.

The crinkle of the bag when Dan crushed it between his fingers was loud and seemed to echo in the long hallway. Phil cast him a judgemental look, his stride not breaking as they headed down the ugly carpet toward the door at the far end, but his judgement was more for Dan’s decision not to share the sweets with Phil than it was for the sound. Dan gave him an unsympathetic glance back, shoving the empty bag into the tight pocket of his jeans.

The door at the end of the hallway flew open before they ever reached it. “Boys!” said a woman striding through.

“Agents,” Phil corrected her.

“Boys!” she said again. “You’re two minutes late.”

Phil exchanged another glance with Dan, but this time it was a look in which they decided not to comment on the time of their arrival. _Two minutes_ , Dan mouthed. Phil snorted quietly in agreement and they turned back toward her. They had almost reached the end of the hall.

“Director,” said Phil, and he could hear Dan’s voice echoing the same title at the exact moment as him.

Her face twisted, unsettled, either from their disturbing chorus or from the word itself. “I’ve said to call me Bryony.”

“Director Bryony,” Phil amended. She looked exasperatedly fond. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no,” Bryony assured him. “I just wanted to see what was taking you so long. Come along, both of you, I’ll give you the rest of the details for your mission.” She turned and waved a hand for them to follow her. Her dark suit and slacks stood out in stark contrast to the unsightly hall.

“Mission?” Dan asked. “I thought that was scheduled for tomorrow.”

“We finished prep a lot earlier than we’d thought,” she said. The door she had come through was still open and she went right through it, calling over her shoulder, “We have everything ready, as long as you’re both good to go.”

Dan was first behind her, entering the large room, and Phil strode through after both of them. He glanced around the room, awed as always by the striking lines of the room, the sleek beauty of the machinery inside, and the buzz of the many people working on their separate tasks. The room was incredibly different from the bare, simple exterior of the building; it had a high, arching ceiling, brightly lit with not a trace of shadows and there were dozens of elegant machines and computers in circular rows around the centre of the room. Technicians and various specialists occupied each machine, either sitting or standing next to them while they worked. It was all arranged around the middle of the room, where a massive rectangular machine sat by itself on the stone floor. It was tall, with glass sides and gleaming metal supports.

Phil was still a little afraid of the machine. Maybe not afraid of the actual thing, but afraid that he would somehow trip and crash into it or otherwise break it. He’d almost fallen into it multiple times, but after ten years of working in this job, he’d somehow managed to avoid breaking it. It had, of course, been upgraded since its first clunky design. It’d only been big enough for one person when it was first created, and he and Dan had had to go into it one at a time.

“We’re good to go,” Dan said. Phil’s attention snapped back to Bryony and Dan, the latter of whom was frowning at him. They had all stopped beside a narrow square table that sat closest to the door and oversaw the rest of the room.

Bryony hadn’t noticed Phil’s lapse of attentiveness while he was distracted by the room. She pulled out a chair and adjusted something complicated on the table. “Here,” she said, “sit down. We’ll go over the mission before you get dressed. I think Louise is finishing up the shirts.”

There were four wooden chairs at the table. Phil picked the one facing the centre of the room and Dan, notably, picked the one that wasn’t exactly the furthest from him, but it also wasn’t the closest.

Bryony dropped into the one she’d pulled out, heaving a sigh. She swept a hand over the glass tabletop and the inlaid devices reacted immediately, flashing out a holographic green interface. It was lines and lights and words, and none of it made sense to Phil. Her fingers darted here and there, selecting various pieces, and the interface responded accordingly, expanding her selections until they grew to the length of the table and a metre tall. Phil could barely see Dan’s slumped form on the other side of the table through the display.

“This is case 1031 out of 2566,” Bryony said, pointing at the highlighted block of information that was slowly circling above their heads. “We’re calling it the Subway Talk, since that’s what you’re going to be doing.”

“Sorry, wait,” Dan said. A green outline of a face drifted through the interface right in front of Phil and made Dan’s outline a blurry, viridescent shape. “You said 2566? Weren’t there just 2560 the other day?”

“Yeah,” said Bryony. She looked aggrieved. “The analysts found six more fractures over the weekend. It’s not that they’re still happening, it’s just that we haven’t found all of them, even after ten years.”

“God,” said Dan, tone disgruntled. “Repairing them all is going to take forever. We’re only managing about two a week because of all the regulations and secrecy and how everything has to be perfect.”

“We’ll have a job as long as we’re finding them,” Phil reminded Dan.

Bryony was nodding in agreement with Dan when Phil glanced at her, though. “You’re right, it’s pretty exhausting. But it _has_ to be perfect. We don’t want to cause any more fractures by doing anything wrong. It has to be researched and scheduled to perfection or we might mess something up.”

By ‘we,’ she also meant Dan and Phil. Though nothing could be done without all of the various highly-skilled techs, analysts, and specialists, the burden of perfection eventually rested fully upon Dan and Phil and the way they handled their missions. Small mistakes might not matter, but anything too out-of-place could cause disaster. Although...

“Time always corrects itself in the big ways that matter,” Bryony completed Phil’s thought. “So we’re not too worried. But if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person, it might destroy what we’re trying to accomplish.”

‘Destroy’ was a big word to bring out before lunch, Phil thought. He wondered absently if Bryony had picked up on the underlying tension between him and Dan.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Dan said. “I know. So, mission?”

Bryony’s hands darted to manipulate the interface and the information that was displayed matched her words. “You’re going back about sixty years. Like most other fractures, this one just caused a tiny jolt in the fabric of space-time. In this case, it was inside a Subway, a sandwich shop in that time period. All it did was trip a customer entering the shop. However, from our previous records, we know that the action caused a tiny chain of events that weren’t supposed to happen. The victim, who had previously been considering asking for a promotion, took that as a sign of bad luck and decided not to do it. They quit their job three months later and _didn’t_ go on to become the director of the business, like they were supposed to.”

“So... the Subway Talk?” questioned Phil, but he could see where this was going.

“A talk at the Subway,” she agreed. “We’re going to send you both back. The rules on this one are actually a little looser. We don’t have a script for you or anything, so you’ll be relying on your intuition and reflexes for it.”

Dan snorted, probably at the idea of Phil and reflexes. Phil hoped he could feel the force of Phil’s glare through the projection between them.

“We’re going to drop you about five minutes before it happens, right down the street from the Subway. The spacial analysts have found a precise location where there are no cameras and no people so you won’t be noticed. The behaviour counsellors have recommended just stepping right inside the shop to wait for the target and then either catching the target or helping them up when they trip. Then, just... talk. Try to bring up jobs and if they mention theirs, encourage them to go for their promotion.”

“It sounds simple.” Phil was suspicious, and he had every reason to be. The ones that sounded simple tended to end up even more complicated.

“It’ll be fine.” Bryony waved a dismissive hand. “You have to finish within an hour, though. The exact time and location will be on your phones. Get there and we’ll pick you up. As usual, until we get some sort of technology worked out where we can remain in open communication with you, we won’t be able to talk to you.”

“Sounds good,” said Dan. “When are we starting?” He seemed to actually be paying attention to the bits of information about their mission that drifted with the projections, which Phil was grateful for, as he understood little of the shorthand that made up the details. The one thing he did notice and file away in his memory was the clear portrait of their target. They were slim, with a narrow face and arching eyebrows.

Bryony caught his gaze following the moving portrait and she reached a finger to catch it and hold it still. “Yes, that’s your target. Their name is Ainslie. All you’re supposed to know is that they’re vegan. Actually, I probably shouldn’t have told you even that. Forget I said it.”

If Phil knew anything more about the targets, he tended to bring up the facts in weird, stalker-ish ways. He didn’t mean to, it just slipped out of him. Bryony had stopped telling him anything but the essential facts about a target so he didn’t disturb any of the targets by announcing one of the random details about their life on accident.

“Dan!” came a call from the other side of the room. “Your clothes are ready!”

“Yeah, Louise, just a sec!” Dan yelled back. He stood, but Phil could barely see the movement through the bright lines of the display in front of him. “Anything else, boss?”

She shook her head dismissively. “You got all of this yesterday, I’m just refreshing you both. You’re good, go get dressed.”

He left, and Bryony waved away the projection as soon as he was halfway across the room. The lines and indistinguishable words blurred and collapsed back into barely-visible green lights that spread thinly across the table. Bryony’s gaze met Phil’s. “Okay,” she said. “What’s happening?”

“Happening?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Philip Lester,” said Bryony. “I know you, and I know Dan. What’s going on between the two of you?”

“We’re fine, it’s not going to affect the mission,” Phil tried, but she cut him off.

“As a _friend_ , just for a second, okay? Not as your boss. I knew you before you even started working as an agent. It was just a coincidence that your profile was exactly what we needed for this position.”

Phil could feel himself slump in his chair. His glasses slid down his nose and he pushed them back absent-mindedly, ignoring the chirp of acknowledgement from the lens. He dropped his hand and the glasses went back to their idle state once they recognized that he wasn’t giving them a command. “It’s just... look, it’s not going to affect the mission. We just had a little... domestic, this morning. Dan was upset with me and he didn’t even try to understand what I was saying.”

“A _little_ domestic?” she repeated. “Sorry, but Phil, if it was that little, I doubt I’d even be able to notice the obvious tension between you two. You’re usually so close, it’s like you share brainwaves.”

“Well, we obviously don’t!” Phil reigned in his snappish tone and tried again. “Dan wouldn’t even _listen_ to me. He was only talking about how I messed up and wasn’t even trying and he didn’t want to see it from _my_ point of view at all. And I’ve been trying! I’ve been trying really hard, but he doesn’t even appreciate it.” He was whining, and he was aware of it, but he couldn’t help it.

Bryony looked unimpressed. “I’m going to drop a truth bomb on you, mate. Okay, not quite, but listen.” She waved a long finger in his face before he could protest. “And don’t interrupt me. When the first time machine malfunctioned eleven years ago, it caused all of these cracks and fractures that were only discovered because of the former painstaking preservation of time records. We were founded by the maker of that time machine to repair what the machine had done. It took almost a year to perfect our device and get all of these different people together to work on it. That’s when we found you, one of the few whose entire ancestry had been unaffected by the malfunction, and started sending you on missions. We figured it would be better with a partner, so we found Dan a few months later. You’ve both been working together for ten years now. _Ten years_ , Phil. And you’ve been living together for almost nine of those years.”

Phil didn’t find that brief recounting of the past decade’s events actually very helpful and so he told her as such.

She just looked exasperated. “What I’m trying to say is that you and Dan are really great together. You’ve worked out many other arguments, I’m sure, so what’s different about this one?”

“Dan is being stubborn,” said Phil.

Bryony blinked long and slow at him. “I’m sure he’s not the only one.”

Phil didn’t respond for a few seconds, feeling somewhat defensive. “This isn’t very good friend advice.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She stood from her seat, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. “Besides, I’m not a relationship counsellor. I’m just the director of a goddamn time travel corporation.”

Phil stood as well, stretching in a small movement until his back stopped twinging. “Time Co. is better off with you as their director than as their relationship counsellor, anyway.”

She swatted his shoulder, snorting. “Oh, shut up. Go get dressed, I’m sure Louise has finished your outfit by now.”

She was Director Bryony again, strict posture and precise movements, and not his friend of over twelve years. Phil nodded in acknowledgement and slipped past her toward the far corner of the room, where he could see Dan almost towering over Louise, who looked harried as she waved frantic hands at him. From her motions, it looked like she was telling him to either take his shirt off or to do jumping exercises. It probably wasn’t the latter.

“Hey, Phil!” called one of the time machine techs as Phil made his way past their block of computers.

“Hey, PJ!” Phil slowed but didn’t stop, his destination obvious. “How’s it going?”

“Good!” said the brunet, beaming at Phil while his fingers didn’t pause their incessant typing. “We’ve got ol’ Timey Wimey powered up and ready to go when you are!”

Phil still didn’t know who had named the incredibly advanced and complicated piece of technology after a phrase from an old show about time travel. He suspected Dan, but it could have been any one of the techs who worked here. They were all nerds. “Great!” he said. “Just have to get dressed and we’ll be ready to go.”

PJ waved briefly at him, then went back to hunching over his computer, and Phil went on to the corner. There was an array of wheeled clothing racks surrounding Dan and Louise, and he had to push one aside to get to them. A tall, folded room divider was leaning against the wall behind Louise.

“Good!” Louise said upon seeing him. “Prop open the dressing screen for me, Phil. You both need to get dressed.”

Phil did as she said, reaching for the room divider and pulling it away from the wall to unfold it and arrange it in a half-circle against the wall so there was a hidden space behind it for them to change. Louise promptly shoved Dan inside, thrusting a pile of clothes after him. “Change!” she ordered, and then turned to Phil.

“I hate your legs,” she told him before snatching a shirt and trousers from one of the clothing racks. Phil might be offended if she didn’t say it almost every time before a mission. “I swear to God,” she continued, slinging the trousers over one of Phil’s arms and then beginning to unbutton the shirt still in her hands, “this is literally torment for me. I have to find the largest clothes designs in each time era that you visit and _then_ I have to individually tailor it for you. Your _legs_.”

“Dan’s taller than me,” Phil said. “You should hate his legs too!”

“I hate all of your legs.” With that, she chucked the unbuttoned shirt and a pale undershirt at him and pushed him behind the divider to join Dan.

“Um, hey,” said Phil.

Dan finished wrestling the shirt over his head. Curls tumbled across his forehead as his face appeared. Phil couldn’t look away from Dan’s fingers as he dragged the shirt down over his stomach, too slow for it to be an accident. The last sliver of skin was hidden by the dark shirt and Phil’s gaze darted hastily back up. Dan smirked. “Like what you see?”

“It’s a nice shirt,” Phil retorted. He _had_ liked what he’d seen, though, and even more so last night.

“No snogging!” came Louise’s voice from outside the divider.

“That was _one_ time!” Dan called back.

“And it was one time too many!”

Phil could feel Dan’s gaze trail over him, and then Dan huffed a laugh and sauntered past Phil, carrying the clothes he had changed out of tucked under one arm. “Hurry up, Phil.”

Phil complied, hastily stripping his jeans and shirt and dragging on the other trousers, then the undershirt and button-up. They were snug against him in a faintly uncomfortable way, but in a way that was perfectly respectable sixty years ago, which was why he was wearing them. Wearing clothes that hadn’t even been designed yet when they went back in time would look just a little _too_ out-of-place. It took him a few exasperating moments to button up the overshirt, something that Louise had made look ridiculously easy even with her long nails, and then he yanked on his socks. He ducked out from behind the divider as soon as he was done, depositing his clothes on a stool by one of the clothing racks and turning to fold the room divider and place it back against the wall.

Dan was already tying the shoelaces on his era-appropriate shoes when Phil turned back around, so Phil took the shoes that Louise was waving at him and tugged them on over his socks. There were no shoelaces on these. Louise had grown tired of watching Phil unsuccessfully try to tie his shoelaces over the past years and had started selecting shoes without laces for each of his missions.

“We’re starting the sequence, boys!” Bryony called from across the room. “Five minutes!”

“Agents,” Phil muttered under his breath.

“Your hair is fine,” Louise decided, hands propped on her hips as she looked back and forth between both Dan and Phil. “I _guess_.” She whirled away, constantly in motion as she shoved and rearranged and moved clothes and clothes racks.

Phil didn’t know whether to be offended or not. He felt like half of his emotions today had been some kind of offence at what everyone had said. Especially Dan.

As if summoned by Phil’s thoughts, Dan stood and moved toward him. He sidled right up against Phil, his head ducked as he reached for Phil’s shirt. Phil resisted the urge to step back as Dan’s fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt.

“Undressing me already?” Phil tried to joke, but he could feel that he was too tense for it to work.

Dan’s fingers seemed to clench involuntarily. Fabric bunched in his fist, but he relaxed and smoothed it back out. His hand brushed almost tauntingly over Phil’s chest, whispering sensation against a nipple, and then he was back to unbuttoning Phil’s overshirt. He didn’t say anything until he had it completely undone, and then he started buttoning it again, from the bottom to the top. “Your buttons were done up wrong,” he murmured, so low that Phil could barely hear him. “Idiot.”

Phil didn’t know if he wanted to shove him away or kiss him. He settled for tightening his fists at his side and watching the quiet purse of Dan’s lips while he finished slipping the buttons into their corresponding holes.

“There,” said Dan once he was done. He tugged briefly at the bottom of Phil’s shirt and turned away.

“Thanks,” Phil said, but it was softer than he had intended. Dan may not have heard him.

“Two minutes!” Bryony announced. “Go ahead and load up.”

Dan was already halfway to the glass machine in the centre of the room. Phil followed, dodging the last of the clothes racks and the station where PJ sat with a few other techs. One side of the machine slid away from its body, leaving a hollow space inside about a metre in diameter both ways. Dan lifted a foot to step over the short barrier, and then he was inside, his back pressed against the glass and facing Phil.

Phil cast one more glance around the room that was now bustling with activity and, barely managing to avoid tripping over the barrier on the floor, he climbed inside. He was careful to place his feet a certain distance from Dan. However, when the side of the machine slipped shut right behind him, it nudged him further toward Dan until their chests almost collided. It was close, the air pressurized and cold, and Dan’s breath was damp and warm against Phil’s cheek. His eyes, when Phil finally glanced up at his face, were half-lidded and so, so dark.

This is _not_ the time, Phil informed himself sternly.

Bryony’s voice came faintly through the thick glass surrounding them. “One minute! Make sure you have your phones!”

Phil checked. He had it. His glasses vibrated quietly against the skin above his ear.

“So,” said Dan, sudden in the quiet of the machine. Outside, computers whirred quietly and chatter bounced between techs, but here, in the enclosed, ever-so-close space of the surrounding glass, it was still and cool. “Are you ready?”

“Of course I’m ready. Are _you_ ready?” As retorts went, it wasn’t the best, but Phil felt like he had something to prove for some reason. He didn’t, but he couldn’t help feeling like it.

Dan rolled his eyes. Bryony began counting down from outside the machine. It sounded muffled and insubstantial.

“We’ll have five minutes to get to the Subway,” Phil reminded.

“Yeah. I’ll catch the target, then we can both talk to them?”

It was easier this way. They always made last-second plans, even though it drove Bryony mad. The familiarity made Phil relax, just a little. “That sounds good.”

“Good,” said Dan.

“ _Three_!” Phil could hear, somewhere outside of his focus on Dan’s coolly resolved expression and his soft breaths wafting against Phil’s lips. “ _Two_!”

One.

The world twisted around them.

[ ](https://imgur.com/EdUQAfS)

They landed on a cobbled street surrounded by tall brick buildings. _Landed_ wasn’t an exact description - it was more that their atoms reformed into existence in this particular space, their feet forming millimetres above the ground, so they had little distance to fall.

Phil, naturally, managed to trip anyway. He flailed a hand to grab Dan’s shoulder and steady himself, and used to it by now, Dan let him. Once he’d regained his balance, Phil edged away and patted Dan awkwardly on the shoulder. “Er, thanks.”

Dan gave him an odd look.

“Right,” said Phil. “On to the Subway place, then.”

“It’s just called Subway.” Dan turned away from him and headed down the street, his shoes clicking against the cobbled path. There was no one around; as arranged, they had landed in the exact moment and place where no one in this time would be suspicious of two random, curiously tall people appearing out of nowhere. “It’s a sandwich shop.”

“I know _that_ ,” said Phil, even though he hadn’t. Whatever this business was, it hadn’t made it all the way to their time, so he had no reason to know it. He probably should have paid more attention to the briefing.

“Sorry,” said Dan to someone who stepped out of a shop and almost run into him. They muttered an apology back and moved around him. Phil glanced around, noticing the few people that he could now see walking down the pavement, busy with phones or other devices and otherwise ignoring everyone around them. He wondered if anyone would have noticed if they’d landed right in the middle of them without any planning by the spacial analysts.

Dan slowed, jostling Phil with an elbow and away from his train of thought. “There it is.”

And indeed, there it was. A squat, garishly-coloured shop with tall brick buildings surrounding it. It had tall glass windows instead of walls, open and airy, and bustling with customers. Bright signs decorated the pavement in front of it, declaring the specialities and deals. Phil squinted at one sandwich that looked like someone had sat on it. He didn’t understand how anyone would want to eat a squashed sandwich. Maybe smashed food was the popular choice in this time?

“Oh, shit.” Phil leaned closer to Dan, almost tripping over his own feet again, and whispered, “What time is it?”

The smack of Dan’s hand against his own face startled Phil. “Jesus Christ,” said Dan, muffled against his palm. “Why do you do this every time? Read the fucking information we’re given.”

Phil pouted at him, but the effect was lost since Dan was looking away from him and into the Subway that they were approaching. “I do read it! Most of it. I just forget, sometimes. That’s what you’re here for.”

“I’m here to complete the mission, not tell you about it while it’s _happening_ ,” hissed Dan, then smiled through gritted teeth at the customer who opened the door of the Subway for them.

“Thanks!” said Phil to the customer, and they walked inside.

Dan sighed in exasperation, directing Phil off to the side, next to a tall, round table that sat right beside one of the massive glass windows. “It’s 2019. It doesn’t matter, that shouldn’t come up in conversation anyway. October ninth.”

“Oh!” said Phil. “Thanks. Hey, if that was the date back in…” He paused, reconsidering what he was going to say. “I mean.”

“Just stop,” said Dan, sounding wearied. He had pulled his phone out and stared down at the screen. “We have three minutes.”

“Happy anniversary?” Phil tried.

Dan was tapping away at his phone. “I’m going to get you the fucking cheese special sub if you don’t stop.”

There was probably nothing he could be doing on his phone right now; their phones didn’t even have a signal in this time. Phil huffed at him and glanced around the shop. The table they were standing beside was one of the only empty ones, while the others had chattering patrons filling them. There was a line to the counter with about five customers waiting. It was strangely busy for a sandwich shop, Phil thought.

“There’s a university a few blocks down,” said Dan, not looking up. “And this place is cheap.”

“Oh,” said Phil. He understood the comment Bryony had made earlier about their ability to share brainwaves, with Dan’s apparent reading of his thoughts. He didn’t know how he had actually survived those first few months when he’d been going on missions by himself. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Two minutes.”

“Should I get in line?”

“No, let’s wait.”

They waited. After another few seconds of Dan tapping away on his phone, Phil decided he was probably playing a game. He sidled closer, trying to get a glance, but Dan just took a few steps back. “Nope,” was all he said.

_Rude._

The door jingled as someone came inside. Phil spared them a quick glance, but it was just an exhausted-looking teenager with a green Subway shirt. The acrid scent of cigarette smoke wafted with them and Phil coughed involuntarily, suppressing it as best he could with a hand to his mouth.

Dan watched him until he stopped, then the concern on his face collapsed into disgust. “Gross, go wash your hands.”

“You’re gross,” Phil retorted. He slipped past Dan to steal a generous blob of hand sanitizer from the machine he had noticed beside the door. He rubbed the cold gel into his palms and waved them to help it evaporate faster, going back to the table to stand beside Dan. “There, I’m clean now.”

“You smell like alcohol.”

“ _You_ smell like…” Phil trailed off, uncertain, then finished with a triumphant, “your mum.”

“You’re the actual worst person.”

Phil grinned. His glasses vibrated against the side of his face, and he could feel his phone doing the same in his pocket. It was their ten-second warning, letting him know that it was time to be professional. He was facing the door, with Dan between him and the door with his back against it. Casually, Phil let his gaze slide over to the window so he could see the pavement outside. There were a few people walking past, but no one was - wait, _there_.

“Target sighted,” Phil murmured.

Dan’s fingers were still moving over the screen of his phone, but his posture had relaxed into his _ready_ pose. This particular mission didn’t require any strenuous or immediate action, but it was hard to drop the instinct after so many others that _had_ needed it.

Dan turned halfway, casual and smooth. The door swept open and the tiny bell above the door tinkled merrily and Phil’s stomach twisted, an automatic reaction to the split-second of time warp that had just occurred, just as their target stepped inside the door. No one else would notice it if they hadn’t been trained for it.

The target stumbled and flailed an arm as they lost their balance, but Dan was already there. They toppled right into his side, and he snatched at their shoulder to keep them from falling to the floor. “Fuck!” he said purely by instinct, but he saved them. Phil took a few steps forward, but stayed back, and watched them both stagger a few steps to regain their balance. Dan let go of the other’s shoulder when he knew they were safe from falling.

“Are you okay?” Phil blurted, letting his feet carry him forward to examine both of them. Dan allowed Phil to brush his hands over his shoulders, his concern real but exaggerated for the sake of the target.

“I’m fine,” said Dan. He turned toward the target, his eyebrows wrinkling. “You good?”

They blew out a breath, glancing down at themself. “Yeah, I think so. Shit, that was close. Sorry about that, I’m pretty clumsy.”

“That’s okay.” Dan waved the apology away. “So’s Phil.”

“Hey!” said Phil, but half-heartedly. He briefly examined their face for any signs of pain and was relieved to find none, but their eyebrows were drawn tightly together. They definitely matched the picture he had seen earlier, with a slender face and choppy, dark hair. A bag was slung over one of their shoulders, and they patted it urgently, apparently making sure that nothing had fallen out or been crushed in the jostle.

“You sure you’re okay?” Phil asked. “You look kind of stressed? Sorry, that’s rude.”

“I _am_ stressed,” they said. “It’s fine, I don’t have a brain-to-mouth filter either.”

Dan snorted a laugh.

“Sorry for running you over,” they tried to apologize to Dan again, but he shrugged it off.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention either. I’m fine if you are.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Sure,” he said.

There was a moment of silence, in which Phil felt both himself and Dan searching for something to say while he could see the target glancing past both of them at the counter.

“Cool shirt,” Phil heard himself say.

They glanced down at their dark shirt and the blocky letters that spelt out ‘Vaccines Cause Adults’ and laughed. “Thanks! I actually wear it to work.”

“You’re allowed to wear it there?” asked Dan, and Phil could hear the engineered surprise in his voice. Workplaces were apparently much stricter in this time than in Dan and Phil’s own, and so Dan would pretend to be shocked.

“Oh, yeah, it’s a pretty cool place to work,” they said, eyes crinkling briefly at the edges, but then the blooming smile was lost. “I mean, usually. I’m not sure about today.”

“Work troubles?” Dan sympathized immediately.

“You could say that,” was all they offered in reply.

“We should get in line,” said Phil, seeing someone else out of the corner of his eye as they approached the door from outside. He took a step sideways away from the table, making sure he had Dan’s attention, then turned and headed for the back of the line. He avoided multiple tables full of chattering people, stopping behind the last person in the row of waiting customers. He could feel Dan come up beside him, and then the target.

“Oh!” he heard Dan say. “My name’s Dan. This is Phil.”

“Hi!” said Phil. His position in the line secured, he turned toward them.

“Oh,” they said, in a different tone than Dan. Their face was flushed. “Um, Ainslie. Sorry, again. I’m so awkward today.”

“Those days happen,” Phil told them. “I’m awkward a lot, too.”

Ainslie laughed, the tone of their dark skin cooling somewhat. “Uh, thanks. Yeah, you were right,” they directed to Dan. “Work troubles. It’s just been a shit day at work. I even took an early lunch.” They gestured toward the Subway sign and menu above all of their heads. “This place doesn’t really have good vegan options, but it was the closest fast food place.”

Oh good, Phil mused. The vegan characteristic was the only thing he’d had to worry about accidentally blurting out.

“You’re vegan!” said Dan. His posture had shifted fully toward them. “That’s cool. So am I... well, mostly.”

They both shared a commiserating laugh at the troubles of avoiding meat.

“So do you guys work close to here, too?” Their eyes were darting between Dan and Phil, clearly trying to assess their relationship. Phil let himself drift a little closer to Dan, their arms knocking together, but he went with their usual story.

“We’re actually on a business trip. We’re between boring work conferences right now, so we decided to grab a sandwich.”

“Conferences are the worst,” Dan agreed. He moved a few steps further in the line with Phil when the people in front of them edged forward.

Ainslie looked intrigued, keeping up with Dan. “Really? I kind of like conferences... like, figuring things out and whatever. Determining what to do next in the company can be fun. I mean.” Their laugh almost sounded like a cough. “I mean, not that I go to many of them. I wish.”

To Phil’s ears, Dan sounded careful, but he might have appeared casual to Ainslie when he asked, “Why’s that?”

“Oh, you know.” A flippant wave of their hand. “I’m not quite important enough to go to them. I’m trying.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” they agreed. “I’m... working on it, kind of. I was actually…” They looked hesitant, eyes darting as if what they were going to say was more nerve-wracking than Phil could understand, “actually, I was going to ask for a promotion today. I’ve been thinking about it.”

There were some things that were just... _easy_ to tell a stranger. It was a phenomenon that Phil had encountered many times during these missions, and yet he was still always pleasantly surprised by these kinds of admissions, these words or intentions that were held so close to a person’s innermost thoughts and released when they least expected it. Strangers were impartial, brief witnesses to someone’s life and it didn’t mean anything if a secret slipped out to a person who didn’t really matter in the long run.

“You should go for it!” Dan was saying to Ainslie, his tone bright and encouraging. Their gaze dropped at his words, cheeks a dusky brown again.

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“You totally should,” Phil chirped. “If you actually like conferences, you’re practically a CEO already.”

Oops, too far. Dan’s sharp gaze narrowed on Phil, warning him. They both knew that, if this mission was a success, Ainslie _would_ go on to become one of the most successful CEOs that the business had ever seen. It was over twenty years in Ainslie’s future, of course, but a stranger’s words that seemed out-of-place could be remembered for a long time.

Ainslie did not seem to have noticed, however. They were smiling now, a small, careful thing. “Yeah, you think so?”

The line moved forward again. “Of course I think so!” said Phil, shuffling to keep up with the other moving customers.

“Go for it,” Dan said. “You’ll never know until you try.”

“Ah, well.” Something reluctant had slipped across their face. “I’ve asked twice for the promotion now. My supervisor is kind of an asshole.”

Phil wondered if saying “I believe in you” was a weird thing to say to a practical stranger. He decided not to risk it.

“I believe in you,” said Dan.

Phil frowned.

Ainslie laughed. “Thanks, Dan.”

They had all reached the counter now. Dan gestured for Ainslie to go first, but they declined. “You guys go ahead, I’m going to look over the menu first.”

The employee behind the counter looked dead-eyed. It was the exact expression Phil wore when he had a mind-numbing job as a teenager. He wondered how long this person had been working here. “How can I help you?” the employee asked.

“Um.” Phil hadn’t even glanced at the menu after he saw the squished-looking sandwich on the board outside. “Uh.” He scanned it now, squinting urgently at the tall screen above his head.

“We’ll get the foot-long roast beef on white bread,” Dan told the employee.

Rapid fingers tapped the order. “Anything else?”

Phil spotted a bag of crisps on the counter and he beamed. _That_ was something familiar, at least. “Crisps!” he snagged two bags and dropped them onto the counter.

The employee looked down at them, expression bleak. “Okay.” They were added to the order. “Anything else.”

“Er, no.”

It was at that moment that Phil realized he didn’t have any money with him. He patted his pockets anyway, just in case he might find something inside them, and then he glanced helplessly at Dan.

“Are you kidding?” said Dan, once he noticed Phil’s pleading stare. “Louise had heaps of money and you didn’t get any? You’re horrible.” He moved to pay anyway. Phil was sure that the brief exchange wouldn’t make sense to anyone around them, but when he shuffled sideways out of Dan’s way, he spotted Ainslie’s curious stare directed at both of them. He hoped it was more of an ‘are they together’ stare than an ‘are they from this time’ stare. He wasn’t sure if anyone had ever stared one of the latter stares, actually.

Once Dan had paid, he moved with Phil down the rows of meats, cheeses, and condiments, pointing at various objects to place on the sub. The wearied employee piled them on obediently. Phil could see the other employee, the one that came in earlier smelling overwhelmingly of cigarette fumes, step up to take the place at the till.

“I’ll get the veggie delite,” he heard Ainslie tell the employee, and their order was rung up quickly as well. They moved down the line, close behind Dan and Phil, and gestured to their own selection of foods to put on their sandwich.

The bright Subway sign caught Phil’s attention again and a sudden, overwhelming desire took a hold on him. He shuffled closer to Dan, clearing his throat. “Hey, Dan.”

“No cheese,” said Dan to the employee. “What, Phil?”

Phil lowered his voice to an almost inaudible tone. “What do you call a bad sandwich?”

Dan looked aggrieved. “You don’t.”

“Subpar,” Phil said cheerfully.

Dan’s face twisted, but Phil could tell he was trying not to laugh. He snorted a moment later, despite his efforts. “God, no. You’re the worst.” He turned away, moving to take the wrapped subs from the bag that the employee held out to him. Phil just laughed.

Dan sidestepped out of the line and Phil followed him to the table by the door. By some luck, it was still empty. Their movements were casual, careful not to make Ainslie suspicious.

Dan dropped the bag onto the table. It landed with a heavy thud and Phil eyed it warily. He didn’t trust foods that made disturbing sounds when they were put down.

“It doesn’t have cheese,” said Dan, mistaking Phil’s expression.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” Phil edged onto one of the seats by the table and Dan followed suit, sitting across from him and pulling the sub out of the bag. He pushed it toward Phil, who took it with a grimace.

“We could die from this,” Phil said morbidly. “Who knows what germs are on it?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Dan rolled his eyes. He’d already ripped open one of the bags of crisps, crunching on a handful as he spoke. “Just open it.”

Phil opened it, but did so gingerly. At least it smelled appetizing. The folds of the meat and the limp lettuce, however, didn’t _look_ very appetizing.

“Hey.”

Phil glanced over. Ainslie stood beside the table, their sandwich tucked under one arm. They adjusted their bag, lips tugging up at the corners. “It was nice to meet you both. Thanks for the... encouragement.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” said Dan, smiling back at them.

Phil echoed the words, but added, “Go get ‘em!”

Ainslie laughed, so he didn’t regret it. “Thanks.”

Phil sensed what was going to come next - an offer for a phone number in case they were in town again - but that never ended well, so he gave Ainslie a cheery wave. “Have an awesome day!”

They hesitated, but nodded. “You too. Goodbye!” With that, they turned toward the entrance to the Subway and were gone, door swinging behind them. The mission was complete.

Well, mostly. Phil yanked his phone hurriedly out of his pocket and surveyed the timer. They had about six minutes left to get to the alley behind this Subway.

“Oh no,” deadpanned Dan. “It looks like we won’t get to eat this delicious sandwich.”

Phil rewrapped it and shoved it across the table. “Here, throw it away.”

“No! That’s a waste of food.” Dan looked genuinely offended. “Like half of the world is starving in this time.”

“We can’t exactly teleport it to them,” Phil said. “And if we leave it here, an employee will just throw it away once they notice no one’s here to eat it.”

“Point.” Dan got up with Phil, but still looked reluctant as he dropped the bag and its heavy contents into the trash can by the door. He handed the other bag of crisps to Phil, and they both snacked on the contents as they left the shop and walked toward the location programmed into their phones.

Phil kept an eye on the tiny navigational line in the corner of his glasses lens, trying to avoid tripping over his own feet and keep track of it at the same time. He tossed another crisp into his mouth and crunched down on it, then turned where the navigation directed him. Dan was right beside him, dodging a trash can that was inconveniently right in the centre of the pavement.

“The timing on that was almost perfect.” Dan took another bite of the overly large crisp in his hand. “We’ve been given more than enough time to get to the pickup spot.”

“The behaviour counsellors plan these conversations out pretty well,” Phil agreed. “They know us pretty well, too, and how our conversations go.” He eyed the bag of crisps in Dan’s hands. It looked considerably more enticing than the one that Phil was eating from.

“There’s the alley,” said Dan. “Yeah, I guess they do. Still, don’t you ever think it’s kind of creepy how well they plan out everything so perfectly?”

Phil shrugged. “Not really. That’s their whole job, after all. They have all these computers and machines and formulas to help them, too.” He slowed as his glasses beeped at him, then they turned into the indicated alley and stopped beside a massive green bin called a... dumper, maybe. A dumpster? It was quiet back here, out of sight from the main road and little travelled by pedestrians. Despite the disposal bin in this alley, the ground was littered with rubbish. Phil kicked a crumpled can beside his foot and watched it bounce across the paved ground.

“I _guess_ ,” Dan said again. Both of their phones buzzed in their pockets - their two-minute warning.

They munched on their crisps for a few moments. Phil, after more unsatisfying bites of his own, glanced down at the bag and shook it. He tried to sneak a hand over to Dan’s bag and earned a slap on his palm for his trouble.

“Fuck off,” said Dan mildly, tipping the bag up to let the contents fall into his mouth. He crushed the empty bag and tossed it into the dumpster, then reached out and snatched Phil’s bag.

“ _Hey_ ,” Phil complained.

“What? You aren’t going to eat them.” Dan started eating those, too.

Phil sulked, but he _hadn’t_ been about to eat them. He still found it rude, though. His glasses beeped with their one-minute warning.

“Well,” said Dan through a mouthful of crumbs. Phil made a face at him but Dan wasn’t deterred. “This was a short mission. Figure we’ll get to go home right afterwards?”

Phil felt nervous, suddenly. He’d almost forgotten about their argument this morning, but the reminder that they were going to have to go back to their flat and revisit the conversation made him regret that he hadn’t been thinking of it. “Er, maybe. You know it’ll be like five in the afternoon when we get back. The machine takes forever to re-calibrate.” It didn’t matter how much time they spent in the past; the time machine that brought them here and back needed time to cool down and be reprogrammed, usually about eight hours in its actual time.

“Yeah, but,” Dan tossed another crisp in his mouth, “we have to debrief or whatever.”

“Our phones and my glasses record everything,” Phil reminded him. He wondered if Dan was picking up his bad snacking habits from Tyler. “They usually just ask us a few questions about why we did what we did.”

“They take _ages_.” Dan peered down in the bag, searching for any more crisps, and hurled it into the dumpster when he found none.

“I’m sure it’ll be fast,” said Phil, hoping that it wouldn’t. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back to their flat and an argument.

Their phones buzzed. It was time.

“Beam me up, Scotty,” muttered Dan.

[ ](https://imgur.com/EdUQAfS)

Bryony was on them the instant that the glass door of the time machine slid open to let them out. Phil stepped over the barrier on the floor to meet her.

“Well done!” she said as soon as both of them had left the machine. “The repair’s been fixed wonderfully!”

“Of course it has,” Dan said, mock-haughtily. “You sent us, after all.”

She laughed and urged them both toward Louise and her piles of clothing in the corner. “Go on, get dressed and we’ll have a quick debrief so you can go home. I know you’re tired.”

It took her saying that for Phil to realize that he could _feel_ the bone-deep weariness that weighed him down. These trips, no matter how short they’d stayed and how safe it was supposed to be, still ripped apart their molecules and completely put them back together again, twice in one day. It would take the stamina out of anyone. This was another reason why they could only do two trips a week, at maximum. If they did it more often, the very cells of their bodies wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“We might as well have worked a full day,” Dan agreed with Bryony. He accepted the pile of clothing that Louise shoved into his arms. She, or someone else, had set up the room divider in anticipation of their return. Phil watched him toss his phone to Bryony and duck behind the divider to change.

“Thanks,” Phil said to Louise when she handed him his clothes. He gave his phone to Bryony, along with his glasses, and she left immediately to download the information that was recorded on them. His vision was blurred without glasses so he gingerly made his way behind the room divider to join Dan. He could easily have his eyes fixed, but no matter the safety guarantees, he still didn’t trust sharp instruments or lasers near his eyes.

“Hey,” said Dan. He sounded warm and close. Phil regretted taking off his glasses, suddenly. The blur of dark pants and bare chest a metre from him wasn’t something that he ever wanted to miss. Dan moved closer, his shirt clutched in one hand, and came more clearly into focus. The bare skin of his chest and arms was golden and looked invitingly tantalizing.

“Put your shirt on,” Phil ordered, tearing his gaze from the dusky brown of Dan’s nipples. He could see Dan’s pout, but he didn’t argue, sliding the shirt over his head. Phil shoved his clothes into Dan’s arms and shrugged out of his own two shirts, shoes, and jeans he had been given before the mission. The socks joined them a moment later. He purposefully avoided Dan’s eyes, feeling the gaze heavy upon him as he took back the clothes he’d given Dan and swiftly pulled them on.

“Hmm,” said Dan when Phil was fully dressed. His tone was disapproving.

“Like what you saw?” Phil said, echoing Dan’s words from earlier that day.

“Hmm,” said Dan again. He pointed at the pile of clothes on the floor. “No.”

Phil felt a flush overtake his cheeks and he huffed, leaning to grab them. “Fine.” He turned and left Dan in the makeshift room, giving the clothes back to Louise and heading toward Bryony, who was back at her table. He could sense Dan behind him, but ignored him.

He almost tripped over the chair when he tried to sit down, yet managed after a moment of fumbling. “Did you download everything?”

Bryony snagged the frames from her tabletop and leaned toward him, offering them back to him. “Yeah, we got everything.” She watched him slide them on, shaking her head. “Honestly, Lester. You need to get the surgery so you’ll stop tripping over everything.”

“He’d trip over everything anyway,” said Dan. He had come up behind Phil, and his hands settled onto the back of the seat. His knuckles brushed against Phil’s shoulders and Phil was instantly irritated by the shiver that rippled through him at the touch.

He leaned forward in his seat. “So you said it was a success?”

“Yes!” Bryony confirmed. “It worked just as we’d planned. From our updated records, we can see that Ainslie went on to ask for the promotion that very afternoon. They went to their supervisor’s supervisor instead of their supervisor, and got the promotion immediately. In 2039 they became the CEO of the company and remained in that position for over fifteen years. That’s what was _originally_ supposed to happen, before the time warp. Everything was fixed exactly as it was supposed to.”

“Great,” said Dan. Phil could hear the creak of his chair’s back as Dan’s hands tightened on it. “I liked them. I’m glad we fixed it.”

“So, yeah.” Her gaze seemed to flick between them. “I think we’ll finish this up tomorrow. I can tell you about your next mission then, too.”

Phil held back his urge to argue. “Sure, that sounds good.”

“You worked great together,” she said.

“We are professionals,” Dan said. His voice was lilted carefully. Phil wanted to stomp on his foot.

“Okay!” said Bryony. “Well.” She clearly had no idea what to do with the tension between her two agents. She handed their phones back instead of addressing it. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

The chair squeaked as Phil stood. “See you.” He swiped a few times on his phone, summoning a vehicle to their location for pickup.

“Bye!” Dan offered to the room at large. Louise waved at both of them where she was rearranging the clothes and a few other techs in the room expressed farewells. Phil returned PJ’s waggle of his fingers from where he was sprawled across a machine, seemingly trying to repair it.

Dan and Phil left the way they had come in that morning, the hallway just as ugly and the lobby just as bland. Tyler wasn’t at his desk, but Phil had no doubts that he was still monitoring the room from his location. A car was idling on the kerb when they left the building, and this time, Phil got in first, sliding to the far edge of the seat and buckling in. He tensed up when Dan dropped into the seat beside him. He didn’t look forward to continuing their argument.

The AutoNav’s conversational warning about the vehicle being in motion didn’t register when Phil saw Dan’s lips purse together like he was about to say something.

“We’re not back yet,” Phil blurted before he could stop himself.

Dan’s eyes narrowed, but he slumped back against his seat and shook his head, accepting it. “Fine.”

The short ride back to the flat was utterly silent after that. Phil could see Dan, with one arm crossed across his chest and phone tucked against his elbow, tapping away at the screen. He wondered what Dan was playing, but chose to stare out the window at the passing buildings and scenery instead of asking him, like he usually would. The sky was almost the same colour as it had been that morning, but the sun had clearly travelled far, casting shadows in the opposite direction than earlier. It was obvious that over eight hours had passed since their drive in the morning.

The vehicle slowed and pulled over once they reached their destination. Phil leaned forward to tap his phone against the console and ignored the warnings about exiting the vehicle when he climbed out. Dan was right behind him.

It was still quiet when the door to the flat shut behind them. Dan toed his shoes off, eyeing Phil, and headed for the kitchen. Phil sighed and followed him.

“Well?” he said, right on Dan’s heels.

“What?” Dan didn’t look at him, yanking open cabinets and pulling out various items.

Phil shrugged, shoulders tight. He’d gotten past the point of wanting to avoid the topic and now he just wanted to get it over with. He leaned against the corner of one counter and watched Dan drop a bag of flour beside a mixing bowl. “You know what. Just because we’ve been acting normal all day doesn’t mean it’s fine. You’re obviously still upset with me.”

Dan seemed to coil like a wound spring at that, whirling to fix Phil with a harsh stare. “ _Obviously_? Me? You’ve been tense the entire time we were at work and even Bryony picked up on it. You’re the one that said you didn’t want _this_ ,” he waved a hand between them, “to affect the mission.”

“It didn’t affect the mission. It worked.” Phil realized he had crossed his arms across his chest and made an effort to pull them down. They hung awkwardly at his sides now.

“Fuck the mission anyway,” Dan decided. “You know what I want to talk about.”

Phil felt himself rolling his eyes, not intentionally, but he didn’t resist it either. “Yeah, I _know_. Why can’t you just see it from my point of view? Why’s it all about you?”

“All about me?” Dan had thrown open the door to the fridge and he yanked out a carton of eggs. Phil winced as he smacked them down on the countertop. “This affects you too! Stop acting like it doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t affect me! I don’t even notice until you start complaining about it.”

“Exactly!” Dan stabbed a finger toward Phil. “That’s the problem! You don’t even fucking notice and it’s driving me insane. How do you not see it?”

This wasn’t a continuation of their argument, Phil realized. They were just repeating what they had said this morning, albeit with slightly less yelling now. He huffed and tried to re-organize his thoughts. “Look,” he said. “I’m trying, okay?”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” started Dan, but Phil threw up a hand to stop him.

“I’m _trying_ ,” he repeated. “I try to remember and I do it whenever I think about it. It’s just... it’s frustrating because you never notice when I actually do it, but you get upset whenever I forget.”

“You forget nine out of _ten_ times,” said Dan, but he looked a little less angry and the lines around his eyes had smoothed somewhat. “Do you need fucking reminders to do it?”

Phil actually considered that. Of all their arguments about this, they’d rarely tried to bring up a solution for the problem. “That, uh... that might work.”

“Fine.” Dan abruptly turned back to his assembly on the counter. He pulled out a jug of milk and added it to the growing collection of food, movements sharp. “Make reminders. Make one for every two hours we’re home.”

“That seems excessive,” Phil stated, but was already pulling out his phone and tapping away at it.

“You’re excessive,” muttered Dan. There were a hundred innuendoes that sprang to Phil’s mind, but he suppressed them to avoid Dan’s ire. He hoped this idea would actually work. This was a constant argument, and if they could avoid it, it’d be better for both of them. His phone chimed with confirmation of the reminders he’d set.

“Good,” said Dan, recognizing the noise. He slapped a whisk down onto the counter. Phil could see him grimacing as he looked down at it. Some things were better left unremembered. “Come help me make dinner, idiot.”

Phil scoffed at the insult, but he felt a pressure ease off his chest. The insults were practically pet names that Dan used, but he never said them during an argument. The use of one was a clear indicator that Dan, though he might still be irritated, considered the conflict resolved, at least for now. Phil joined Dan beside the pile of ingredients, accepting the tin of baking powder that Dan handed him. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

“But.” Phil blinked. “I love pancakes.”

“Oh, do you?” The sarcasm was clear. Dan’s dimple winked at Phil every time Dan spoke. “I didn’t know. You’ve certainly never ranted to me for hours on end about them.”

Phil couldn’t stop himself. With a hand centred on Dan’s chest, he pushed him back against the counter and crowded up against him. Dan didn’t resist. Their hips fit snugly together and Phil rested a hand against Dan’s neck, brushing a thumb over the soft line of his jaw. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that he had Dan sufficiently trapped. Emotions welled in his throat, choking him. This day had been a roller coaster of feelings. “God, Dan. You…”

“I’m the best,” Dan offered. He shifted against Phil’s weight, leaning an elbow back on the counter. “You’re a twat, we both know - oh.”

Phil leaned in closer, closer... and he bit Dan’s cheek, pressing his teeth against the indentation of Dan’s dimple. The skin was soft beneath his lips.

“Ow,” said Dan, but he didn’t push Phil away. He seemed satisfied to let Phil nip at the hollow in his cheek. Phil pushed his thumb against the dip, driving it deeper, and bit it once more, then let his tongue dart out to lick at it. He only stopped when the skin around the dimple looked flushed and wet under his touch, and then he rocked back onto his heels with a noise of satisfaction.

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” said Dan fondly. He reached up to wipe at his cheek.

“Yeah.” Phil wasn’t going to argue with that.

Dan did shove Phil back now, his expression amused. “Come on, let’s make pancakes.”

And they did. 

[ ](https://imgur.com/EdUQAfS)

[ ](https://imgur.com/EdUQAfS)


End file.
